A State of Fire
by Carmabella
Summary: After Draco marries another woman, Hermione is devastated and lost. Can a strange proposition from a mysterious, eccentric billionaire help her find her way again? (AN- This story may take a few twists and turns but it is ultimately DM/HG.)
1. Prologue

**Hello, everyone! **

**Thank you so much for all of your wonderful reviews for my other story, "A Drop of Water." They really make my day! I am currently working on another Severus/Hermione one-shot, but I thought that I'd post this one too, since Draco/Hermione is also another favorite pairing of mine.**

**So. I watched the movie 'Delta of Venus' recently for the first time... and even though it was a little outrageous at times it was still really erotic and beautiful and I was really intrigued by the plot. It became the inspiration for this story.**

**I hope you enjoy!**

**JK Rowling owns it all... I own nothing. :)**

**A State of Fire**

_"He was now in that state of fire that she loved. She wanted to be burnt." _

-Anais Nin, from Delta of Venus

**_Prologue_**

Married. He was officially married.

Her eyes fell on the Prophet and she tried not to gag as she watched the moving photograph on the front page restart over and over again. Draco and Astoria Malfoy... all blonde hair and shiny, perfect smiles.

Married.

Married, married married.

And shopping for furnishings for their lavish new flat in Paris, where the young Malfoy heir had recently accepted a job as a financial consultant at the French equivalent of Gringotts.

Hermione's lower lip trembled a bit, but her eyes remained dry. They were so swollen and tired that they literally couldn't shed another tear. Even if she had wanted to.

And she did. She wanted nothing more than to crawl into her rumpled bed and cry under the covers until it was all over. Except it wouldn't ever be over. The man that she loved had signed his life and his love over to someone else. To her.

Two worried pairs of eyes studied her from the two chairs on the opposite side of her cluttered kitchen table. Ginny Potter shot a worried glance over at Pansy Parkinson (soon to be Weasley), which the taller woman returned. Times had definitely changed. It had been years since Hermione and Ginny had run into Pansy at a party and made amends, and the three witches had grown into a dysfunctional and loving little family.

"Hermione," Ginny sighed, reaching out to rest her hand atop of her grieving friend's. "I know how badly this must have hurt. I know that it's awful. But everything is going to be okay."

Hermione covered her face with shaking hands and sighed. It was not going to be okay. It had been months since the slimy prat had broken her heart and she still hadn't recovered. She had known this day was coming and still, for some reason, hadn't been able to prepare herself for it.

Pansy leaned her elbows against the table and gave Hermione a sad smile. "He's a fool, Hermione. And for what it's worth, he doesn't love her and he never will. You know that."

Hermione let out a sound that was half barking laughter and half sob. "And yet _she's_ the one that he married. I know that you're trying to make me feel better, Pans, but it all boils down to the fact that _she_ is his wife. I begged him to stay and he didn't. He didn't have to go through with this arranged marriage, but he did. I wasn't enough for him. Even after all we've been through, I still wasn't good enough for him."

She covered her face with her hands held her breathe as the ache in her chest throbbed painfully. She should have known that he would only end up hurting her. She should have run the other way when she saw him coming. She should have known that being with him would only end in heartbreak.

_Things had been so good before._

After the war, Hermione had accepted a job at the Ministry of Magic in law. Her job was to research and write drafts and proposals of new bills that would be approved or rejected by the Wizengamot. She loved her job, loved that she really seemed to make a difference and hoped that someday she would have a seat on the counsel herself.

In her spare time, she wrote. Her main project was working on a book about the war... painstakingly interviewing participants and compiling research. This she worked on publicly... often meeting with her editor and her publisher.

Privately, however, she spent long evenings and lazy Sundays writing short stories or poems. These she wrote for her own pleasure... never publishing. She had stacks upon stacks of scribbles and drabbles written in notebooks and hidden away in a minimized box in her closet... some that dated back to her early teens. Her writing was one of her quiet joys, and not many people had seen her work. It was an artistic outlet she indulged in only for herself... even though Ginny and even Harry had often encouraged her to take it further. She always smiled faintly and answered with the same: "Maybe someday." She was perfectly content with her life as it was.

Everything had been wonderful. She was up-and-coming in the Ministry, She had the best friends in the world and she loved her little London flat. She was happy.

_And then he had come along. _

While being friends with Pansy was something that she enjoyed more than she ever thought she would, it did have its drawbacks. Pansy had been friends with Draco Malfoy since they were children, so it was inevitable. Seeing more of Pansy meant seeing more of Draco. His father had died in the war, and he and his mother had been pardoned by the Ministry. In the six years since then, he had been steadily working at cleaning and polishing the Malfoy name. He was respectable and hardworking and it was quite obvious that he had set his father's prejudices aside and changed for the better.

This did not make him any less of a self-centered git.

Once they had renewed their acquaintance, it quickly became obvious that even though he no longer threw around hateful slurs, annoying Hermione was still his favorite pastime. Hermione was not amused. After Pansy and Ron started dating, it only got worse. He had, miraculously, made amends with Harry, Ron and Ginny and was quickly becoming a staple in their small group of close friends. This made him impossible to avoid. He was at parties, he was at group dinners... he was everywhere.

Their verbal sparring was strenuous and exhausting, if not a bit exhilarating. He had a sharp tongue and a sharp wit to match it. A person with an intelligent mind equal to her own was hard to come by... and she often found herself bickering with him for hours with no clue how the conversation had started or why she always seemed to gravitate to him during gatherings.

Their friends shared amused glances and affectionate eye rolls. The two were always at each other's throats... but it was hard to miss the flush in Hermione's cheeks and the look of longing on Draco's face as he watched Hermione flounce away in anger.

This went on for months.

Then he started showing up at work. He often made trips to the Ministry in his work as a consultant, but Hermione had never had to deal with him before. After a particularly fierce argument at Pansy's birthday party wherein she had called him an 'arrogant tosser,' however, he began turning up in her office once or twice every week for "amiable visits."

These visits consisted of him annoying her to the point of distraction until she blew up. He would smirk, deliver last parting shot that would make her blood boil and then leave her spluttering in her office, trying desperately to come up with something adequately scathing to say.

One day, however, everything changed.

"Granger."

"Get out, Malfoy. This is not a good time."

"Please tell me that you're drafting a law that will make wearing that particular shade of orange illegal."

Hermione huffed, glancing distractedly down at the blouse that her mother had given her for Christmas.

"Leave Malfoy. Now."

Smirking, he settled into the chair across from her desk and made himself comfortable.

Thinking that she would ignore him until he gave up and went away, Hermione refocused on the new proposal that she was proofreading. After re-reading the same sentence 8 times, however, she sighed angrily and glanced up at the handsome git who had merely been eying her calmly for the past 7 minutes.

_Handsome..._

She dismissed the thought before she could analyze it and arched a brow. "Malfoy. What you came to say today cannot possibly be more important than Centaur relations, but the sooner you spit it out, the sooner I can get you out of my office... so out with it."

"Centaur relations? Kinky, Granger. I never took you for that kind of girl."

"WHAT DO YOU WANT, MALFOY?"

"I want you to have dinner with me tonight."

Hermione's jaw dropped and her eyes widened. He smirked. "As attractive as that may be, Granger, I'm rather hoping that you will be able to compose yourself before dinner. We will be out in public, you know."

Hermione snapped her mouth shut and cleared her throat. "Dinner. Like a date?"

His expression was all cool confidence, but the fingers of his left hand drummed on the armrest of the chair distractedly. Hermione zeroed in on this uncharacteristic gesture. Malfoys did not fidget. He was nervous.

"Why, yes, I do believe that is what the kids are calling it these days."

"You've got to be joking."

"I assure you that I am not."

"But you hate me."

"I think that it is quite obvious that I don't."

"How?"

"I don't make a habit of asking people that I hate out to dinner."

Hermione cleared her throat nervously. He was serious. "But... we're always fighting."

Draco smirked. His fingers drummed once more and then stilled. "Have we been fighting? I rather thought that we were flirting."

Hermione mutely stared at him in disbelief and Draco sighed and stood, running a hand over his blue silk tie. "It was an invitation to dinner, Granger, not a marriage proposal. If you don't want to go, it's no big deal."

He turned to go and Hermione suddenly remembered that she did, indeed, have a voice.

"Yes."

He turned back, one hand on the door knob. "Yes?"

"Yes. I'd like to go."

He smiled the first real smile that Hermione had ever seen and she knew that she was in trouble.

"Good. I'll pick you up at eight."

That had been a year ago. A year since the night that he took her out for the most delicious meal she had ever eaten. A year since he had held her close as they had twirled on the dance floor, the skirt of her red dress tangling about both of their legs.

A year since he had kissed her goodnight at the door of her apartment building, his breath catching on a nervous inhale as he leaned in to press his lips to hers.

They dated for six months and Hermione had been in a state of ecstasy. THIS was happiness. This was what it was like to have it all. A job that she loved, friends that she loved... a man that she loved. For it soon became clear that she was, in fact, very much in love.

All of those months of heated arguments and half-hearted insults had built her up to impossible heights and that one, gentle kiss goodnight had been just the thing to knock her over the edge.

And He loved her too.

He said it with his eyes every time he looked at her. He kissed the words into her every time they said goodbye. He whispered it against her skin the wonderful night she gave her body to him for the first time, and said it again every time after that.

And those times had been numerous.

She could not get enough of his body and of the things that he did to hers. Hermione had not been a virgin but she hadn't had a lot of experience and Draco took great enjoyment in pushing her boundaries and instructing her in the ways of pleasure.

He tied her up and teased her until she begged him to fuck her.

He would drag her off to the bathroom in the middle of dinner with friends and take her hard as he bent her over the sink... both of them returning to the table disheveled, flushed and giddy.

When, after a particularly strenuous evening, she told him that she didn't have the strength to make it through yet another orgasm... he had smirked, buried his blonde head between her thighs and didn't resurface again until he had given her two more.

Every fantasy was fulfilled... every desire granted. It got to the point where she was in an almost constant state of arousal and she loved it.

It had been beautiful, the sex had been amazing and, in her opinion, things couldn't get much better.

Until that night. That horrible night when he had shown up at her flat looking so sad that she thought that someone had died.

The night when he told her that he couldn't see her anymore.

That he would be marrying another woman.

It had been a marriage contract that had been drawn up back when he was still a boy. With the death of his father and the end of the war, he had considered the contract null and void and hadn't given it a thought since.

The Greengrass family, however, came calling once it was obvious that the Malfoy name had been restored and Draco's mother had pushed for the match.

Bound by his affection for his depressed and broken mother and by his duty to his family name, he assented.

Hermione was desperate with grief. She screamed at him, hurling foul names and various knick knacks at him until they both collapsed in tears. He held her until she cried herself to sleep... and when she awoke he was gone.

He and Astoria announced their engagement a month later, and Hermione had been too prideful to fight it. She was determined to keep her dignity. Any letters of apology were returned unanswered. She would not embarrass herself any further.

Yesterday had been the wedding. Pansy had had to attend, but Ginny came over to stay with her as they watched the clock. Hermione became more and more desolate by the minute.

When the clock struck 4 and it became obvious that, yes, he really was getting married and, no, he wasn't going to make a grand romantic gesture and call it off to be with Hermione instead... she stood up from the sofa and went into her bedroom without a word. She didn't come out for a full 24 hours.

It had been the worst day of her life...

Until today. When the wedding photos were plastered all over the Daily Prophet.

Which brought her back to the now... with her two best friends staring concernedly at her from across the table.

"What can we do, Hermione? What do you need right now?" Pansy asked, leaning forward as her devastated friend stood up from the table and started heading back to her room.

"Nothing," she replied grimly. "That's it, isn't it? I will just have to pull myself together and move on. At least he's moved to Paris and I won't have to see him on a daily basis. I will be fine. Eventually."

The two women in the kitchen watched helplessly as their friend went through the bedroom door and softly closed it behind her.

As Hermione crawled into bed, she pictured Draco doing the same thing... settling under the covers next to his new, perfect bride. She choked back a sob.

Sleep would be a long time coming... and she wasn't sure if she would ever be 'fine' again.

_**TBC...**_

**That's it for now! I know that this may have seemed a bit rushed and that you had a lot of exposition thrown at you all at once... but I really wanted to story to be less about the break-up and more about what happens after. That's what's important.**

**And don't you worry your pretty little heads... there is definitely smutty goodness to come!**

**Thank you again, so much, for reading! **

**-C**


	2. A Proposition

**Hello, lovelies! I had a long, snowy, lazy day off and thought that since I am headed out of town for a few days that I would finish and post the next chapter before I took off.**

**This chapter definitely gets a little steamy towards the end, so if you're not a fan of smut you might want to skip this one.**

**The title of "The Collector" that I use in the story is also borrowed from the book and movie "Delta of Venus" by Anais Nin, which was also the inspiration for this story.**

**Okay! Here we go!**

**JK Rowling owns all. I own nothing. :)**

The days passed slowly.

Hermione was always good at compartmentalizing. She knew how to keep her work and personal life very separate. During the day, she was still the efficient little worker bee that she had always been.

After work was over... after she had entered her flat, kicked off her heels and fed Crookshanks... that was when the barrier that kept the pain at bay during the day eroded and she sank into a version of her own personal hell.

It was only when she was alone that she let her carefully constructed mask fall away. For all intents and purposes, she was still the same old Hermione. She got out of bed every morning. She brushed her hair. She did not lose weight. She did not waste away.

But inside... she was dying. It was only the small group of her closest friends that could tell the difference.

They did their best to distract her. They took her out to dinners and movies. Ron and Harry took her to Quidditch games. Ginny and Pansy took her out shopping. They all tried their best to make sure that she was never alone for too long.

She smiled brightly, joked and laughed along with the rest of them... but they all knew better. This new 'half-a-Hermione' was anything but happy, and her smile wasn't half as bright as it used to be. Only time would be able to heal her and restore her to the vibrant girl that they once knew.

After about 3 months of watching her friend slide in and out of a quiet depression, Pansy decided to take matters into her own hands.

One Friday evening, after work, she knocked on the door of Hermione's flat.

It was obvious that the petite brunette had not been expecting company and, therefore, had not had the time to completely set her smiling mask in place. Her hollowed, empty eyes only hardened Pansy's resolve to get Hermione to agree to her proposition.

"Hey, Pansy," Hermione began, exerting a little more effort than usual and widening her smile. "I thought we were having drinks tomorrow night?"

After she had gotten home from the Ministry early that evening, Hermione had gone to change out of her work clothes... only to find that, in her absence, Crookshanks had gotten into her closet and knocked over the dreaded, hidden box of photographs that documented her relationship with Draco Malfoy. Se had spent the better part of the last hour wading through a pool of her own bitter sorrow. It had not been a good start to her Friday night.

"We are," Pansy began, stepping through the door as Hermione ushered her inside. "But I received an interesting letter at work today and I wanted to run it by you."

Pansy, like Draco, had invested a lot of time and energy in bettering herself as a person and turning over a new leaf. Most of her success was due, in part, to her newly found surrogate family of Gryffindor friends and her wonderful, bumbling, speckled oaf of a fiance... whom she had been re-introduced to at Harry and Ginny's wedding and whom she loved more than she ever thought she possibly could.

Another reason, however, was that instead of choosing the route that most young, wealthy Pureblooded girls chose, which involved sitting at home in their giant estates drinking tea and gossiping all bloody day long, she had gone out and found a job that she really enjoyed.

Pansy was a private buyer and dealer for both magical and muggle artifacts and antiques... specializing in rare and priceless books. She received dozens of letters every day that included requests for a certain hard-to-find item. She would then track these items down and sell them to her clients for very large sums of money.

Hermione thought that Pansy's job was absolutely fascinating, and Pansy often shared these requests and her findings with Hermione, even sometimes letting her peruse over the priceless old tomes and knick knacks before they were shipped to one of her happy clients.

Seeing the old, familiar spark of interest in the smaller witch's eye at the prospect of a new, rare book to look over before it was sold made Pansy smile. She had her right where she wanted her.

Hermione, who had quickly set about making tea for her guest, eyed the tall, beautiful, raven-haired witch curiously. "Well? Is it a magical or a muggle book this time? Did you ever find out if that volume of Hecate's love spells was an original?"

"It was a fake," Pansy muttered waving her hand distractedly. "Anyway. Back to the point. This letter I got... it wasn't a request for a book or an artifact. It was for something... a bit different."

"Different?" Hermione furrowed her brow, doctoring Pansy's tea with two sugars before handing it over to her. Both women sat at the table.

"Yes," Pansy began, choosing her wording carefully. "A bit more... risque."

Hermione raised her eyebrows. It was a genuine expression, unschooled. Pansy reeled her in, relieved that she had snagged her interest.

"The letter was from a very mysterious, very wealthy man in America. He didn't give me a name... said that he didn't want to be known. That's not the strange part... I have had anonymous requests before. What is strange is that it isn't so much of a 'what' that he's looking to procure... but more of a 'whom.'"

"Whom?" Hermione asked, her tea long forgotten. "What do you mean a 'whom?'"

Pansy smirked. "Apparently, this "Collector," as he likes to be called, has amassed a collection of rare erotica, but is now looking for something a bit different. His letter requested that I find a young woman who will anonymously correspond with him and send him her own original, erotic stories every month for which he will handsomely compensate her for."

Hermione's eyes widened and she let out a little laugh. "You mean to tell me that some dirty old man in America wants you to find someone to send him dirty stories every month? That's disgusting!"

Pansy leaned back in her chair and finished the rest of her tea. "What's disgusting about it? It's completely anonymous and he's willing to pay a good deal of money. Besides, we don't know if it's a dirty old man... I have no idea what this guy looks like. It may be a bit unconventional, but if this is the way he gets his kicks, I don't see the harm in it. He's not hurting anyone."

"Besides," she said, smirking as she set her teacup on the table. "I think it's a bit sexy, actually, don't you? Writing steamy letters to a stranger... knowing that you are the reason for his arousal without even knowing who he is? It's like something out of one of those old novels you love so much."

Hermione, who had been stuck in sexual limbo ever since Draco had left her behind, saw her point.

"I guess so. Even though it is a bit strange. How in the world are you going to convince someone to respond to this request?"

"Actually," Pansy said, studying her perfectly manicured nails, "I was hoping that you would do it."

"ME?!"

"Yes, You."

Hermione let out and incredulous laugh and shook her head, brown curls bouncing about her shoulders.

"What could have possibly made you think that I would agree to do it? That's preposterous!"

Pansy sighed impatiently and leaned her elbows on the table.

"Why? I think it's brilliant. You are a writer, you are amazing with words and frankly, darling, you need something to take your mind off of things. More importantly, you need to remember what it's like to be a woman again. Every girl feels better with a steady supply of sex added to her diet... and if you really won't reconsider going out with any of the lovely young blokes that Ginny and I try to set you up with... then at least you can engage in some healthy imaginary sex. And no one even has to know."

Hermione, still not convinced, felt her cheeks flushing and coughed nervously.

"Come on, Pans, this is ridiculous. I wouldn't have any clue what to say. What if he doesn't think I'm any good?"

"So what? He doesn't know you... it doesn't matter. And as for figuring out what to say... I'm sure you have all sorts of dirty little fantasies. The swotty ones always do."

Hermione grew solemn again as she reflected on all of the fantasies that she did, indeed have... each one of them starring a beautiful, arrogant man with white-blonde hair and stormy grey eyes.

"Hey," Pansy said, covering her shaking hands with one of hers. "This will be good for you. It'll give you a creative outlet and it will be fun. Like a naughty little secret. What's the harm in it?"

Hermione gave her a tremulous smile and took a deep breath. "I'll think about it."

Pansy nodded and smiled back. "That's all that I ask."

"By the way... how much is he willing to pay?"

"100 galleons a page."

"WHAT?!" Hermione, who had lifted her teacup to sip at the now cold liquid, dropped it back on the table with a loud clacking noise.

Pansy laughed, using her wand to vanish the mess. "Yes. A small fortune. "It's starting to sound pretty good isn't it?"

Hermione nodded dazedly and Pansy rose from her seat.

"Well, darling... I would love to stay, but Ronald and I have dinner plans. Please give this some thought, yeah? I really think it will do you a world of good." Giving Hermione a peck on the cheek, she let herself out.

Hermione sat at her kitchen table for a while longer, turning the proposition over and over in her mind. Really, what was the harm in it?

She hadn't written anything in months... hadn't really felt that wonderful, familiar compulsion to write and was starting to miss it.

Maybe she could treat this as a sort of an exercise? The mysterious "Collector" wanted a new story every month. Having a deadline to hold herself to might be helpful... it had always worked in school. She would only write to him until she got back into the swing of things again. When she had found her voice again.

And the money wouldn't hurt either.

Sighing, she went back into her bedroom where the shoebox full of painful memories sat on the foot of her bed. Maybe she did need a distraction... something to help her out of this awful rut that she had fallen into.

Lifting a photograph off of the top, she looked into the face of a smiling, shirtless Draco at the beach and the twinge of arousal she felt deep in her lower abdomen made the decision for her.

Pansy was right. She may not be ready to jump into bed with someone new, but some good, hard imaginary sex certainly wouldn't hurt.

She put the shoebox back up on a higher shelf in her closet and sat down to scribble off a short note note to Pansy.

A few hours later, a graceful eagle owl tapped on her window bearing a response.

_"Great. I'll set it up."_

Two days later, Hermione sat at her desk... staring at the neat stack of blank white parchment in front of her.

Pansy had contacted the "Collector" and set up the arrangement. Hermione would write the first story and Owl it to Pansy, who would forward it to the address that the Collector had provided for her.

This first story would act as sort of an 'audition' piece. If he liked it, he would send her a response through Pansy. If he didn't, he would terminate the arrangement and ask for someone else. Never one to back down from a challenge, Hermione was determined to get this right.

He had asked for a fantasy... a fantasy...

Nibbling on the end of her quill, Hermione closed her eyes.

_A fantasy..._

There had been that night... that hot, sticky summer night. The night they had gone dancing...

_The heat in that nightclub was stifling... _

Feeling slightly short of breath, she put her quill to paper before she lost her nerve...

...

_The heat in the nightclub was stifling... the endless mass of writhing bodies entwined on the dance floor generating a sexual energy that was almost overpowering to the lone girl in the middle of the dancing crowd._

_Her body was covered in a sheen of sweat... her long hair plastered to her neck, her arms... the skin of her bare back. She was dancing loosely, beautifully, and she felt freer than she could ever remember feeling. Her body undulated and pulsed to the grinding rhythm of the music. _

_The couples moving around her were lost in their own world... the hazy darkness providing a cover for their sordid deeds._

_A dark haired man licked his two fingers before slowly slipping them under the skirt of his slender lover... her cries were swallowed by the roaring volume of the song._

_The tiny blonde woman next to her had pulled the bodice of her girlfriend's skimpy dress down so that her breasts were bared... before taking a hardened nipple into her mouth._

_She was close enough to see the wet sheen that the girl's mouth had left behind as she switched to the other nipple. _

_She took a deep breath and realized that she had grown wet between her thighs... the sheer amount of carnal lust that surrounded her was so intense that she could barely breathe. She needed something... someone to ease this ache. She needed... needed..._

_And then he was there, behind her. _

_She could smell him before she even saw him... the heady aroma of sex and sweat and that tangy, citrusy smell that she only associated with him. He was there._

_One large, long fingered hand slipped around to rest on her abdomen and jerked her back sharply so that her bottom was pressed against him. She could feel the steely length of him behind her and whimpered. _

_Slowly beginning to move to the music, he ground his hips against her... his left hand skimming up her arm to push her mass of hair over to her other shoulder so that he could catch her earlobe between his teeth._

_She let out a low moan and accidentally caught the attention of the small blonde woman from before... who was now on the receiving end of her girlfriend's ministrations. She was in a similar position, her lover's hands under her barley-there little skirt, and she locked eyes with our heroine, her mouth going slack with desire._

_"Well, well, well," he whispered into her ear as she rocked against him. "It seems we have an audience. Shall we indulge her, love?"_

_Slowly, his left hand, which had been skimming across her collarbone, travelled down and over her breasts... sliding torturously down her taut stomach before slipping under her skirt... coming into contact with nothing but damp, bare skin._

_"Merlin," he breathed, his breath coming out hot and hard against her neck. "What a naughty, naughty witch. No knickers and so very hot and wet for me."_

_One long finger slid into her... His thumb making hard, tight circles against her clit... just the way she likes. S_

_he lets out a plaintive moan and lets her head fall back against his shoulder... her eyes falling closed in her rapture._

_"She's still watching, you know," he rasped before pressing a hot, sucking nip to that spot below her ear._

_"She wants you desperately... it's so easy to see. Open your eyes. Look at her."_

_He added a second finger and began pumping them in and out of her slick channel. She did as he said and opened her eyes._

_The little blonde was flushed... her breasts heaving with each panting breath... her eyes drawn to the movement of his hand beneath her skirt. The fact that she was being watched so avidly made her even wetter, and he growled against her ear, pressing roughly against her clit with his thumb._

_"She is jealous because you are mine. You are, aren't you? All mine. Say it."_

_She was so very close... his hands, his voice, the watching eyes and the public venue had her senses reeling and she was... almost... there..._

_His hand stilled and she let out a desperate, needy groan that he answered with a low growl that set her blood on fire._

_"Say that you are mine and I will let you come. Say it. __**Say**__ it."_

_"I'm yours.. only yours. Please... yours..."_

_With that, he pinched her clit once and she was flying. She was dimly aware of the small blonde girl also climaxing at her lover's hand but lost track of everything else when he spun her around to face him._

_"Enough," he snarled, before crushing her lips in a bruising kiss. She tasted blood. Without another word, he dragged her through the crowd and out of the club on shaky legs._

_He didn't stop walking until they reached a deserted alleyway. He pushed her against a brick wall, grabbing a fistful of her hair and using it as leverage as he used his mouth to rip hers open and pushed his tongue past her teeth. Grasping her hands in his, he pulled them down to his belt buckle._

_"Take me out," he rasped, and she was more than happy to comply. One he was free from the confines of his denims, he wasted no time before picking her up, wrapping her long legs around his hips and burying himself in her to the hilt._

_"Yesss," he hissed, as her head fell back against the rough brick._

_He began to move inside her... hard, punishing thrusts that hit exactly the perfect spot every time._

_She loved this. Loved his fierceness. Loved how perfectly they fit together. Soon, she was there... on the edge again._

_"Come for me. I want to feel you... let me hear you scream."_

_His hoarse, biting words were just the thing she needed to tip her over the edge. She came hard, wailing... her back bowing and thighs flexing as he pumped his hips twice more before emptying inside of her._

_Completely spent, he uncoiled her legs from around his waist and set her gently on the ground... his head dropping down to rest against the damp skin at the crook of her neck._

_Boneless and sated, she pressed a kiss into the light stubble on the ridge of his jaw._

_"Yours," she whispered, and she felt him smile against her skin._

Setting her quill down gently, Hermione wiped the tears from her eyes. She had never felt such a strange mixture of sadness and arousal before.

It was one of her favorite fantasies... the hypnotic music, the little blonde voyeur, Draco's hands on her heated flesh. But that was just it. It had also really happened and opening the wound again had definitely stung.

Even though it did feel strangely good to write it all down on parchment, sort of like therapy, she resolved that the next "letter" that she wrote, if she was even asked to write another, would not center on one of her experiences with Draco. It was too painful to have to revisit over and over again.

After re-reading the parchment, she flushed, an embarrassed smile forming on her lips.

It was actually... pretty good.

She had never written anything this... racy before.

Before she could second guess herself, she folded the parchment, stuck it in an evelope and sent it on its way.

It wasn't until her owl left that she felt the slightest tingle of dread that this mysterious Collector would not like it. That he would reject the strange erotic story that she had somehow thrown her whole heart into.

Deciding that there was simply nothing that she could do about it now, she climbed into bed and immediately fell into the deepest sleep she'd had in months.

When she awoke the next morning, she awoke clear-headed and refreshed.

Aside from the insatiable ache between her thighs, she almost felt normal again.

**TBC...**

**Well! That almost made me blush! I hope that you enjoyed this chapter! Feel free to drop me a line and let me know what you think!**

**Love!**

**-C**


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